


Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, M/M, Mindbreak, Mortis (Star Wars), Orgasm Control, Seduction to the Dark Side, Tentacle Rape, That’s Not How the Force Works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Anakin will never Fall. Absolutely not.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/The Son | Fanged God
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37
Collections: Space Swap 2020





	Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



The Son’s power surrounds him and fills his head with himself, but images can only do so much.

All that horror… he could never become that.

Anakin laughs, despite being collapsed on the ground from the echo of screams in his ears. Of innocent and guilty and loved.

“This is impossible,” he says. “I would never do such terrible things.”

The Son… merely smirks, leaning elegantly down and grabbing Anakin’s chin. Anakin shivers. The Son’s skin burns yet fills Anakin with a deep chill, simultaneously.

It’s terrifying.

(It’s exhilarating.)

“I have no reason to lie to you, Chosen One,” the Son says. “I want you to be mine, willingly.”

“I would  _ never _ turn to the Dark Side,” Anakin growls, jerking his chin from the Son’s grasp and repeating his earlier words. “Certainly not willingly.”

The Son laughs.

“Is that so?” He asks. “You wouldn’t turn willingly no matter what I did to you?”

Anakin finds no reason to reply with more than a glare. The Son laughs, high and tinged with insanity.

“Oh, Sister,” he whispers, though his hiss-echoing voice makes it sound clear and terrifying. “If you could see me now.”

Anakin forces himself to stand on shaking legs. The Son locks eyes with Anakin and Anakin finds himself utterly unable to look away.

“Oh, but I can preserve your will while doing a great many things to you,” he murmurs. He leans in again, and whispers in his ear “ _ Sleep.” _

  
  
  


Anakin wakes up hanging in midair and unable to move in a room utterly devoid of light. In fact, trying to move feels like… like…

He reaches out.

He… can’t?

Oh. That’s why he can’t move.

Because he can’t feel the Force at all.

And… he’s…

The Son grabs his body from behind, and the only way Anakin can tell is the familiarity of the touch on his body. His very naked body.

And Anakin shivers, but said movement surprisingly  _ doesn’t _ hurt like the others had. In fact, it feels…

“Someone with our power,” the Son hisses, “can do anything we wish, with the Dark Side.”

The Son’s hands slowly roam down from his shoulders to his things, and Anakin jerks at the touch, wanting them to get away, but…

When they do, he whimpers.

The Son stands in front of him, suddenly. Clear despite everything else in darkness.

Anakin tries to ask what the Son did but no noise comes out of his throat.

“And I wish for you not to complain,” the Son continues. He reaches down, and Anakin lets out a small noise in… fear? Excitement?

Anticipation.

But… he feels nothing.

He forces himself to look down. The Son’s hand is on him, but…

“I wish for you to be desperate,” the Son says. “To Want but not to have. To  _ desire _ until the passion consumes you.”

He runs his finger along Anakin’s side and it slowly goes from oddly amazing to… to more intense than anything Anakin has ever felt.

Without thinking, he moans.

The Son smirks, and steps back. Suddenly, from the ground, tendrils of red smoke rise from the ground, and slowly creep towards Anakin as the Son watches, smirking.

One curls up Anakin’s leg as he whimpers at the feather-light sensation. It slowly spreads his leg upwards as another two pull his wrists from loose at his sides to above his head, and each and every one feel like they’re curled instead around his cock, even the pain of the stretch morphing into pleasure, and he  _ moans. _

But the Son at least hasn’t messed with his thoughts because this is still so,  _ so _ wrong.

A sensation behind him has him jump. The Son has not moved but Anakin can feel something slowly stretching him. A phantom touch that he tries to back into but instead sobs at the pain of movement and the wave of pleasure that replaces it.

It’s so much yet not enough at the same time and he  _ loves  _ it, but it’s  _ wrong. _

“Perhaps I am being too kind,” the Son says, and Anakin tries to say “no, please stop,” but the words do not form.

Instead, the tendrils solidify, similar in texture to soft vines. A fourth curls up his previously untouched leg, and a fifth hovers even to his face, but Anakin hardly notices the last but because suddenly everything is squeezing him, and he’s  _ screaming _ because suddenly he’s gone from simply aroused to so  _ close _ and… nothing happens.

Anakin pants, glares at the Son, who smirks.

“I wish for you to be desperate,” he says. Anakin opens his mouth to retort…

And the tendril curls inside.

“And now it’s even easier,” the Son says. “Because that tendril blocks orgasms… and releases an even more powerful aphrodisiac. All without my own efforts.

The tendrils squeeze his body and the phantom touch returns to his hole.

The Son disappears.

Anakin sobs.

  
  
  


It might have been hours, it might have been days, it could even have only been a few minutes, but Anakin knows he’s almost come at least 10 times, and he knows it’s wrong but all he wants right now is release.

The son appears before him, and rips the tendril from Anakin’s mouth as all the others pause.

“Will you join me?” He asks, but all that comes out out Anakin is a moan. So he forces himself to shake his head, letting out a whimper as the movements pain morphs into pleasure and the Son had stopped blocking him when he took the tendril into his mouth, so…

Again, it doesn’t crest.

Nonetheless…

He won’t Fall.

The Son merely smiles.

“Very well,” he says. “Open.”

Anakin does, without control and hating it. The tendril returns.

And then another one enters his whole, and it’s a whole new world of painful pleasure.

  
  
  


It has to have been days by the time the Son comes back again. Anakin no longer remembers any taste but the aphrodisiac or any sensation but desperation. The Son smiles.

He again removes the tendril in his mouth. Before he can even ask, Anakin begs.

“Please,” he croaks out. The Son hmms.

“Will you join me?”

“Yes.”

The Son laughs, stepping back as once again the tendrils squeeze him, and the one in his ass speeds up, and he’s  _ coming… _

Right as the sensations stop.

Anakin lets out one more choked sob as the ruined orgasm dribbles onto the floor from his limp cock. The Son whispers in his ear.

“I think I might play with your Padawan instead, after this pathetic display,” he says.

Anakin sees red.

  
  
  


The Son smirks.


End file.
